


Don't move, Don't speak

by AtomBombBabie



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Ass fetish, Blindfolds, Canon-Typical Violence, Dacryphilia, Drug Use, Enthusiastically Dubious Consent, Face-Fucking, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, M/M, Medical Kink, Mutual Dub-Con, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Rare Pairings, Rough Oral Sex, Unreliable Narrator, leg fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23535136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtomBombBabie/pseuds/AtomBombBabie
Summary: "You're the only one goin' around assuming I'm not as strong as the next guy. I may be younger than you or whatever, but I do a ton of manual labor around Sanctuary. You've just been too busy stalking Nate to notice anything else." Mac turned to rifle through the supplies on hand, but the slight tint that rose on his ears showed his own surprise.Even while laying on a dinner table bleeding from several places Deacon's analyzing squint pierced through his tinted glasses, "Is that so? Well, it's through no fault of my own. Had I been properly informed that you were wandering around some village in the wilderness, probably shirtless and covered in sweat, practicing self reform with a group of dirty settlers, I'd have been there right away."The young man gripped the counter with both hands, knuckles going white for a second before he picked up a few things and turned around, crossing the room with a careful expression."You always flirt with people when you're scared or in pain?""Isn't everyone always looking for a distraction?"
Relationships: Deacon/Robert Joseph MacCready
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Don't move, Don't speak

**Author's Note:**

> ***PLEASE READ THE TAGS FOR CONTENT WARNINGS***  
> Holy. FUCKING. Gods.  
> This story did not come quickly or easily, as is to be expected of Anything involving Deacon.  
> Sexy bastard, forever making my life difficult.  
> I also still feel like I should have made a longer ending.. but oh well.  
> Really hope my fellow FO4 fans and shippers enjoy this blatant kink piece!  
> Hit up my tumblr and maybe shoot me a message at atombombbaddie if you have any input.

It had been a very long day. Not that MacCready wasn't glad to be on the road, kicking ass and taking names was one of his favorite past-times; but the sun had been beating down on their heads from the moment they set out, he was starting to sink into the ground under the weight of his travel pack, and a rock had somehow materialized inside his boot within the last hour. The mercenary swiped the sleeve of his duster across his brow before looking around and catching sight of Nathan up ahead, or Charmer as he was frequently referred to these days. The man was jogging up a ridgeline on the side of the road, gaining the higher ground so he could quickly scope out the surrounding area. A few feet behind him, moving only slightly slower, was one of the newer additions to the vault dweller's ragtag crew, a railroad agent everyone just called Deacon. The three had been traveling together for about a week, and despite the man's nearly endless chattering, MacCready couldn't tell you any legitimate facts about him. Other than two small things, that he seemed to sincerely love 'old world widgets' and whatever obscure pre-war literature he could get his hands on. Mac was more of a comic book man himself, as most of the crew knew by now.

Their travels were currently taking them off the road and into the hedge, which would have been preferable to most, as even an irradiated forest could provide some shade, but the young sniper found himself hesitating on climbing after his companions. Despite his complaints it had actually been a fairly uneventful day of travel, with only a few bloatflies and wild mongrels crossing their path. The relative peace had MacCready on edge, not wanting to be taken off-guard in an environment that didn't exactly favor his skill set. Sniping your supper in the forest was one thing, but trying to clear out enemies while they're surrounded by things to duck behind, and you've no way to reach a decent perch? Another thing entirely.

"Bobby."

MacCready turned back around suddenly, realizing he'd stopped and been staring back the way they'd came, he met a firm but affectionate gaze that was being leveled in his direction.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, Nate." Mac smiled slightly, hiking his million ton pack a little higher and taking large strides up the incline towards where the other men were standing.

"You sure?" The soldier placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, giving it a questioning squeeze.

"Yeah, of course. It's just been kinda quiet, is all."

Nate nodded, glancing around at their surroundings again. The vault dweller, though not inexperienced with hostile environments, still wasn't as cautious as wastelanders who'd grown up in this distopian world. Mac was pretty sure he'd even heard the spy remarking a day or two ago how unusual it was for someone as brazen as Nate to still have a head attached to his shoulders. The old popsicle had just laughed, naturally, brushing it off with some comment about Deacon getting too invested in his well-being, which had strangely shut the other man up.

"Well.. We avoided the areas we know haven't been cleared in recent weeks, taking the safest roads. Things being quiet just means we plotted our route correctly." The skin around the man's eyes crinkled as he smiled, making his entire face brighten. "This is supposed to be quick and easy Bobby. Clear a small specified area of hostiles, secure and fortify, wait for a caretaker to arrive."

"Yeah well, when is anything ever that easy?" MacCready grumbled, but allowed his companion to pull him along with an arm slung around his shoulders.

"I thought you were getting stir crazy at Sanctuary? Didn't you say if Mama Murphy guilt-tripped you into planting one more carrot you were gonna toss her into the nearest toxic bog?"

"Yeah Nathan, I know what I freakin' said." MacCready glared at the sparkle of humor in his friend's gaze, "And ya know, despite what you like to think I'm not 'overly cautious' or 'paranoid'. Most everyone NOT a crazy two hundred year old army sergeant thinks that things going too good is usually a bad sign in the wasteland."

The grin only broadened as Nate continued walking them along a worn down radstag path that cut through the rough terrain. It was already several degrees cooler now, and aside from their low conversation everything around them seemed sleepy and content, speaking to the fact that nightfall was hastily approaching. Maybe two hours away.

"I don't know about that. What do you think, Deacon?"

MacCready had to stop himself from flinching, ashamed that he had nearly forgotten the other man's presence. It wasn't actually his fault, though. Whenever the man in question wasn't rattling off useless facts about long dead people from a long dead world, he would just.. fade out. He'd slip off into some shadow or around a corner, or he'd lapse into a silence so thick that it seemed to blur the very edges of his form, turning him into a mirage. The merc would have been impressed, if he wasn't too busy being put off. MacCready really didn't like not being able to get a read on someone, and not only was Deacon utterly unreadable but the few times they'd spoken the man seemed to brush Mac off like he simply didn't have the time of day. There was also the fact that the brunette could have sworn he'd seen the older man around.. More than once. Actually, he could probably name several places he'd seen someone with a striking resemblance to the spy. Diamond city, around the shops in Goodneighbor, inside The Memory lounge when they visited Amari, that one time they stopped in Bunker Hill...

"Hey man, don't involve me in your lover's quarrel. I'm just here for the wild blueberry collecting you promised me. I told Glory I'd make great granny Deacon's berry delicious pie." His expression was as unreadable as ever under those dark reflective shades, but his voice had a certain dismissive quality that it lacked whenever MacCready wasn't involved in the conversation.

The mercenary ground his teeth, tensing as if ready to lash out, but the wanderer just laughed; moving his arm to loop around Mac's waist and pull him closer, making the other man catch his breath instead. He felt heat bite at the tips of his ears but valiantly fought down the flush, not wanting to seem embarrassed or, gods forbid, shy. The older men either failed to notice or failed to comment on his hesitation, thankfully.

"Ouch. Hear that, hunny?" The vault dweller mock whispered just behind Mac's ear, "Guess you were right, he really isn't interested in us huh? And we planned this whole sexy camping trip.." 

Nate winked at MacCready, though the young man honestly wasn't sure what was going on anymore. He'd stopped being sure as soon as his body had been pulled against the bigger, harder one beside him, and his brain stopped receiving anything but visual and sensory readings through the flustered panic. He had gotten a lot more used to the casual way Nate threw around his affections, but he'd be lying if he said none of those touches sparked something in him. The vault dweller was honestly an incredibly beautiful man, and not just because his pre-war body was healthier and stronger than anything a modern day wastelander could hope to achieve; Nate was also, simply put, blessed in the looks department. In fact, he was blessed in many of those ways that make you Special. Which is exactly why half of his crew was floating behind him with hearts in their eyes, and the other half was plotting how to take down their competition. 

A sound in the distance drew the groups attention, all three falling into crouches and pulling their weapons. Mac had his rifle off his back and aimed in the direction of the disturbance before the others, sighting through his scope but unsure of where exactly he was meant to be looking. Again the sound came, this time it was closer and more distinctive. There was a quiet curse as someone dropped a bullet while loading their gun, Mac opened both eyes to take in the landscaped before squinting one shut again and focusing through the scope.

"Do you see it?" Nate breathed, near enough that he was almost touching the merc, but very carefully keeping himself separated as to not affect the other's balance.

Mac shook his head very minutely, not taking his eye off the area to their right where the sounds had come from. The place they were kneeling was almost entirely hidden by underbrush, keeping them out of sight, but also obscuring their view more than the sniper liked. He was almost tempted to close his eyes and just focus on what he could hear. Then, several feet behind them, breath and a branch snapping loudly under a heavy foot made the group whip around as quickly as possible.

The trio barely had a warning before the yao guai came into view, ambling through the briars and vines that concealed them. It had come around behind them, and no doubt was either currently, or soon would be, scenting them out. Deacon had been following behind and was therefore closest to where the creature was approaching from; his posture was rigid as he switched his gun to his left hand and slowly reached into his boot to retrieve a knife he kept there, praying his ten-millimeter could unload enough bullets into the thing before it mauled any of his important bits too badly.

Big huffing breaths followed by an angry snort was their only indication before the beast was charging them. Deacon swore loudly, raising his gun and pulling the trigger two, three, four times. It was still coming, hardly even slowed by the bullets.

"Get back-"

Deacon's warning shout was cut off by the piercing crack of a rifle and the gurgling roar of the yao guai as it's face planted in the earth, body tumbling over itself before slumping to a stop several feet in front of the spy. His eyes jerked over to take in MacCready, posture firm and steady as he remained crouched down low, gun braced against his shoulder, duster hanging to one side and brushing the dirt he knelt on. His muscles were bunched up tight with anxiety but there was a gleam of triumph in his eyes when he turned his face to meet the other man's gaze.

"Whoa.. Thanks. Appreciate the assist MacCready." 

Mac was taken aback by the sudden and direct words of gratitude, his blue eyes widening and shoulders slumping in shock before he caught himself. Standing up straight and clearing his throat the young sniper slowly made his way over to the downed beast, eyes locked on the ground beneath him. He gave the thing a little kick, grunting with satisfaction when it didn't so much as twitch.

"Yeah sure, no problem man." He mumbled as he dropped back into a squat. 

Removing his duster and rolling up his sleeves he got to work on carving out a few meals from his kill. The wiry muscle along his arms flexed as he cut through tough skin tissue, not bothering to go at his task correctly, in favor of quickly. Deacon was still where he'd been when the yao guai had rushed them, kneeling and watching the younger man's actions with more than interest, though you could barely tell behind those shades of his. He nearly jumped when a hand came down on his shoulder, glancing up to see Nate grinning at him.

"Alright there Deac?" There was an unspoken humor in that knowing gaze.

"Yeah, of course, right as rad rain. Couldn't be better, in fact. I love the nature.." He chirped distantly, turning back to watch the youngest member of their group silently slicing away.

"We get that wrapped up and make camp in the next hour or so, I say we'll be eating better than we have in weeks." The wanderer said as he made his way over towards his friend, "Though at this point, anything is better than yum yum deviled eggs."

Mac made a satisfied noise as he ripped a large chunk of roast from the body of the bear, turning to grin at his employer like a kid who'd found an exceptionally large frog. The other smiled back, reaching into his pack and pulling out a length of cloth to wrap the fresh meat in. Another ten minutes passed in silence as a decent portion of the kill was wrapped and stored away, and then the group was back on the trail. The mercenary having to forego his jacket, hands and arms still coated in blood. The rest of the walk was both uneventful and strangely quiet as the spy had seemed to slip into one of his introspective moods. Which was just fine with MacCready, the inane babble that usually spilled from the man wasn't really his cup of tea. He'd always preferred conversations where you didn't feel like you were talking to someone new every five minutes, and Deacon's company frequently came with costume changes. 

_-*-_

"Listen kid, I understand your concern. But like I said, It's gonna be two days max before the caretaker gets here. I'll be spending most of the first day setting up turrets and the radio beacon. Plus we already cleared the place out, thoroughly, you saw to most of it yourself."

"I hear ya Nate, still not really gettin' why you're sending us Both on some errand for Valentine, leaving you out here alone to establish an entire base by yourself." 

Deacon was off to the side, pinching the bridge of his nose and listening to the others bicker about what they were going to do next. They'd pretty much blown through clearing the new settlement, or safehouse, at Fairline Hill Estates. Only having to dispatch less than half a dozen ferals, another yao guai that Mac had sniped before they even breached the ring of houses, and a couple radroaches. It was honestly a wonder some random settlement halfway across the Commonwealth had known of this place, let alone feared the few creatures that were currently in residence. Not that it mattered. That knowledge was going to lead to good things for both the Minutemen and the Railroad, so no one in the group bothered to question anything.

That is, until Nathan got it in his fool head that Deacon and Mac should be sent off to some pre-war base to retrieve a holotape for Nick Valentine, while he stayed behind alone. It wasn't that either of his companions thought themselves or the vault dweller incapable of the task at hand, it was simply that the risk was utterly and completely unnecessary. The coast guard station was over half a days trip, even if they left as bright and early as possible they'd be forced to make camp before getting back. That meant at least a day and a night of Charmer, alone, building doors and fences, beating out mattresses and collecting enough supplies for whomever would come to take over this new settlement in a few days.

"I get that you worry about me; with everything that's happened in your life I can't blame you for wanting to stick close to the things you care about." MacCready quickly looked away from his companion, a shadow ghosting over his cheeks, "I promise though, not only will I be fine but you will be doing me a huge favor by taking care of this. It's the last of those damn holotapes and than I'll finally be even with Nick for all the help he's given me with finding Shaun."

The youngest seemed to be debating with himself, face screwed up a bit in distaste for Nate's clear reasoning and guilt tripping low blows. The kid really did have such a thing for being helpful, though he never liked to show or admit it. Charmer simply brought it out in him, almost without meaning to; though this time was an exception. His manipulation was pretty clear but well intentioned, which was what made it so much harder for Mac to argue against. Deacon turned to face the two, sensing that the previous impasse was reaching it's breaking point.

"So let me get this right.." The spy finally interrupted, both men turning to look at him now, "You want the merc and I to go on a twenty four hour mission, leaving you in the middle of no-where to fend for yourself until we probably make it back? Yeah, I'm totally not seeing any room for error there oh intrepid leader."

"Oh come on, not you too! I'd have thought you of all people could see the benefit of this, or at least the possibilities." Nate practically whined, looking Deacon over as if he couldn't believe anyone was passing up on this opportunity.

"What on earth are you even talking about?"

"Alright fine, if I gotta pull out the big guns I will." Charmer turned to Mac once more, his hands coming up to rest on either of the young man's slim shoulders, "You're my employee still, correct? As per our redefined arrangement after Winlock and Barnes. I'm giving you this as a job, as an.. order."

They both cringed at his wording but the boy remained silent, eyes turning a bit cold in defeat. The older man patted the younger's cheek before moving away, coming to stand in front of Deacon now. The spy crossed his arms, his head cocking to one side as he raised his eyebrows.

"Well.. you're not exactly my boss, Boss. So how's this gonna work?"

"Deac, my friend.." The wander's voice took on a more grave, aggressive tone as he addressed the man biologically closer to his own age, "I'm sending MacCready on a mission; it's not the most dangerous task in the world, as I'd never leave his side and send him into harm's way, but as we three know too well.. this world isn't kind or merciful on-.. on those that we love."

Deacon felt his stomach drop. He hadn't expected this, didn't know exactly how talented the old soldier really was. This was way beyond Desdemona, it may even put his own abilities to shame. He was almost as impressed as he was uncomfortable, which was saying a lot. The sniper's face had grown even redder at charmer's words, his lips parted and breathing increasing slightly as he shifted his gaze anywhere but Nate.

"I need to know that someone's watching his back, keeping him safe. You've dedicated your life to protecting synths from the threats of the Commonwealth, I know it can't be much of a stretch to protect one young man from those same threats. Just for a day. Please."

And there was no room to argue, was there? No rebuttal to make. They'd been outplayed. So after a quiet dinner and a restless sleep the two unlikely partners set out toward the nearest coast, a crude map and two days supplies between them for the mostly silent and contemplative trek.

_-*-_

It was late afternoon or early evening by the time they'd reached the station, both finding themselves reluctantly glad that they hadn't gone solo. On the way there they'd come across a few raiders, a pack of wild dogs, and even a Gunner encampment; clearing them had been simple enough for the sniper, stalker combination, but either one alone would have been in sore shape by the end of the day. Deacon had found his fledgling admiration for the young mercenary growing; though he kept all his comments vague and his sarcasm sharp, as did the other man. Still, the proficient way MacCready took position and sized up the enemy before unleashing death with stunning precision.. It was something to see. As were his thighs when they pressed at the seams of his pants whenever he dropped to a crouch, the swell of his backside suddenly visible with the shifting of his coat.

The older man came to realize far too late the exact extent of the survivor's game, though said realization was certainly sooner than Mac's. He seemed to remain blessedly ignorant to this long play on Nate's part. It had only been a few hours into the journey that Deacon noticed how fixated he was becoming, his eyes tracing over the younger man whenever he felt he could get away with it. Something about watching him in action was unexpectedly arousing, which his new Heavy had to know, having spent several months in the boy's company before this. There were reasons why Mac was the newest railroad agent's favorite companion, and the spy was now certain that aesthetic appreciation was one of those reasons. He too was already visually enthralled, though he'd perfected keeping a careful layer of disassociation between himself and the rest of the living.

MacCready was walking ahead as he often did, the spy silently bringing up the rear as he drank in the view. The young man pressed his back to a wall and glanced quickly around a blind corner before straightening and taking a few steps back, looking up at the building they were up against from the other side of the alley. His eyebrows quirked slightly and he glanced at Deacon, jerking his chin up to direct the man's gaze. The spy nearly laughed, they were standing beside the main building of the coast guard station, the sound of waves washing out any other ambient noises around them. Deacon drew himself up and walked closer to the mercenary, taking the opportunity to check over his gun and refill the magazine.

"What's it looking like out there?"

"The front doors look clear, but I can't be certain they aren't suppose to look that way. There's a pretty obviously reinforced building, two down, and I think I smell smoke.. maybe a cooking fire?"

"Definite aroma of blood, char and booze in the air. Raiders, or Gunners maybe."

"I'd go Raiders, we'd already have come across perimeter guards if they were Gunners."

"You're the expert." Deacon remarked, cocking his gun and pushing his glasses further up his nose, "You know how you wanna do this?"

MacCready leaned around the edge of the building again, his eyes shifting around quickly before he swung back and pressed himself into the wall once more. He licked his lips and swallowed, the spy's eyes tracking his tongue and then the shifting of his throat, his own mouth going slightly dry at the sight.

"I can see them."

"How many?"

"One on the roof, another just behind the junk barricade, and two more rounding the corner. They could have dogs somewhere too.. and there could be more inside."

"So either we try to take them all out silently, within a thirty second window, or.. we find a back way in. I vote for the second option personally, but I'm open to your opinions."

The young man nodded, ignoring Deacon's general Deaconess and tightening his grip on the strap of his gun, shifting further away from the mouth of the alley. His eyes did a quick sweep before coming to rest on the spy, chin dipping and lip pulling between his teeth for a few seconds, yet another habit that betrayed his obvious oral fixation. A thought the older man shoved away as firmly as possible, dragging his eyes off the softly swelling lower lip.

"After you." MacCready whispered, nodding toward the back of the building.

Deacon pivoted on his heel without another word, lifting his ten-millimeter and lowering himself as he moved silently towards their new destination. He gestured with a fist for Mac to hold as he checked past the corner, a lack of guards around back once again proving the ex Gunner's assessment of the unfriendlies nearby. Raiders, untrained and ill-prepared, but dangerous due to sheer stupidity and greater numbers. His hand darted forward in another silent signal and the two fell into step one behind the other, rounding the corner and moving as fast they could while remaining quiet. A back door was located, the frame and wall in surprisingly good condition; it would take too much noise and brute force to bust through, which left them only a few options. The spy took the easiest, dropping to his knees and tugging a few bobbypins from a tin stashed in his pocket. He pressed one between his lips and then slid a second into the lock, slipping it into place expertly and pulling the other pin free to be shoved in below the first. In under a minute he had the door swinging open on it's rusty hinges, dust and cracked plaster falling loose after being disturbed for the first time in possibly centuries.

"Damn." MacCready let out a very low whistle, his expression openly impressed, "Hey, You should teach me that sometime."

Deacon tilted his head to the side and examined the merc for a few seconds, mind running through several possibilities, and even more possible responses. He settled for shrugging and tucking the pins away, a smirk tugging at his lips as he straightened back up. He stepped aside and gestured for the young man to go ahead of him.

"I'm stuck between wanting to teach these skills to the younger generation, in an effort to pass on a little bit of my genius; and being certain that if you learned how to properly pick locks you'd become a solid seventy percent more of a pain in the ass."

MacCready rolled his eyes but kept his comments to himself as he slid past, shoulder and thigh brushing against Deacon as he entered the building. The older man took a slow breath and needlessly adjusted his glasses again, taking a second to edge the door closed before moving to follow the mercenary through quietly clearing this area as well.

_-*-_

The building was remarkably and thankfully vacant, only the scattered remains of ancient plants and undisturbed bones waited around each new corner. Still, the mercenary had been exceptionally thorough in his duties once again, going so far as to check every bathroom stall while Deacon dug through the desks and filing cabinets for clues and any trinkets that caught his fancy. Of which there were several, of both. They located Valentine's special tape with little trouble and got back out of the coast guard station without alerting the nearby raiders to their presence. As usual it wasn't what they came to do that gave them trouble, but getting there and back unnoticed, that's where the difficulties came in.

"It's pretty late already." MacCready remarked, holding his hand up to the horizon to judge the time, "Probably only another hour of light, if we're lucky. Might be a good idea to pick any non-crumbling roof and pitch up."

"Would a familiar roof a little further away be better than an unfamiliar roof around here?" Deacon questioned casually, glancing westward and squinting behind his shades.

"Does 'familiar' mean fully stocked? And does 'a little further away' mean reaching there before nightfall?"

"Mostly and probably."

"You got a fear of commitment or somethin like that, don't ya Deac?"

"That's a possibility, Mac."

MacCready openly sighed in something between frustration and resignation, hoisting his load higher and tipping down the brim of his hat, saving his sight from the blinding glow of the evening sun, "Alright, whatever. I'll follow your lead."

They went back to traveling mostly in silence, but Deacon couldn't completely drown his apprehension, making jokes and centuries old references as they crossed the land. He even drew the merc into a slightly heated debate over whether Grognak was a better protagonist than The Silver Shroud. The young man surprising him by having very strong and well worded arguments towards the merits of The Shroud, whom Deacon preferred despite avidly arguing that Gronak's raw sex appeal would always win the day. In the end the spy declared an impasse on that subject, MacCready glaring at the back of his bald head for the next ten minutes, even stomping a bit in comparison to his previously quiet steps. Deacon kinda wanted to pick another fight just to get the younger man flustered and wordy all over again.

They entered the sun bleached remains of another old world settlement just before the sun kissed the horizon; probably a budding town at some point but now reduced to three or four crumbling store fronts, a few multi-story business buildings, and an assortment of half destroyed houses accompanying the ghoul infested apartments. Mac paused as they were passing an old cafe of sorts, noting several unfriendlies limping around inside. This entire area looked like it hadn't been cleared out in a long time, if it ever had at all. With the Minutemen making their grand resurgence under Nathan's leadership, and the BOS out in force as well these days, it was pretty odd for any place with travelers to be so infested.

Deacon whistled quick and sharp but not loud enough to put anyone on alert but the young sniper. MacCready's shoulders twitched inward before his head jerked up and he met the spy's gaze through the blacked out shades. The older man made an impatient gesture, his head nodding in the direction they had been heading. Mac raised his eyebrows in a way that clearly communicated how unimpressed he was with their current situation. The man took a deep breath and let it out in a deeply put upon manner that had the mercenary growling in indignation. The stand-off was quickly broken when the crackling snap of laserfire sounded nearby, both men dropping into stealth positions as they pulled their guns. Deacon once again taking lead, quickly and silently moving out of the open and into an alleyway, both men spotting the dilapidated fire escape attached to a nearby apartment and making their way over. Another short round of blaster fire and a single cry of agony that was swiftly silenced had the older man sweating; he recognized the quick and methodical nature of the blasts, the way precious fusion cells weren't being wasted but people certainly were. He'd heard this song before alright, and it was a requiem.

They hopped onto the roof, the mostly open space needing a simple sweep of the eyes to know they were alone up there. MacCready paused by the stairs, getting into a sniping position while sighting up the rooftops around them. Deacon was still and silent until he received an all-clear nod from his companion, then he moved forward until he could peer over the edge of the roof into the streets below. He was there for only half a minute before jerking back, his skin growing visibly more pale.

"Deacon? What's up man?" The sniper whispered as loud as he dared, hoping the wind would keep his voice from anyone below while not stealing it away from the spy's ears.

Said spy made a quick hold gesture, causing MacCready's jaw to snap shut. He went back to checking the other roofs, not sure what kind of threat they were facing down below but certainly not expecting it to be the only surprise around here. Deacon slowly made his way back to where the merc lingered near the stairs, crouching close by and putting off strong waves of panic.

"What's going on?" The younger man tried again, lowering his gun to the ground and shifting slightly to fully face the railroad agent, his ashen complexion still somewhat worrying.

"Courser." Was the only response, and it was honestly all MacCready needed.

The mercenary had never faced one himself, but he'd heard enough from Nate and certainly read enough comics to be very wary of any super robot built specifically for infiltration and assassination. It was one thing for them to come upon Institute synths, but as far as MacCready had worked out you only came face to face with a Courser if they were on a seek and destroy mission. And they only ever seemed to release these bastards on those sorts of missions when the Railroad was involved. He came to several related conclusions very quickly, those conclusions inevitably generating questions, and knowing better than to clutter his brain before a big shoot out he instantly shuffled aside any of those questions that weren't life or death related.

"Where?"

"To the right, four down, across the street."

"Alone?"

"Two visible Gen Ones, rear guard."

"Available cover?"

"Not much outside the building, but Coursers rely heavily on stealthboys in combat."

MacCready nodded as he absorbed the new information, his steady drilling of questions seemed to bring Deacon back into his body, the man checking over his gun before pulling his pack off and withdrawing several objects. The mercenary looked them over while he tried to stratagize about an enemy he'd never faced and could only imagine until recent years. Until the Commonwealth caught him in it's irradiated fangs.

"I'm going to leave these two with you, only use them within the first thirty seconds of the fight or not at all. Too much of a risk that I'll be caught in the blast." The spy said, the grenades he handed over were made out of baseballs and felt awkward to grasp single-handedly.

"What do you mean leave them? Deacon, if anything I've heard about these guys is true, you can't go down there alone. That thing is absolutely lethal."

"I know you miss me when I'm away buttercup, but we gotta do this my way; and my way keeps the sniper on the roof where he's best positioned to help Me, a one man army with strength skill and experience on his side, take down the pawn of my evil nemesis'."

MacCready didn't allow himself to be diverted, reaching out and grabbing the spy's wrist to get his full attention before releasing, "You're not invincible man, you need someone at your back. Let me watch it, just this one time."

"I'll do one better than that," The man responded as he suddenly rocked forward and gripped Mac's shoulder near his neck, thumb pressing in just below where his throat began, "I'll have someone raining death from above for me. Now remember what I said about after the fight starts, alright? And give me eighty seconds to get into place, after that you can pick your target and take the first shot."

Fingertips brushed the skin of Mac's neck for a brief second and then the other man was slipping over the edge of the roof and making his way back down the fire escape. The merc placed his hand over the area he'd felt Deacon's touch a moment before, swallowing thickly but obediently beginning his count to eighty. He shook off the odd feeling that'd filled his bones when the other man had his hand on him, crawling quickly to the other side of the roof and poking his head out. Thirtyfive seconds left, he spotted the courser, a man in a long leather trenchcoat and a neatly trimmed high and tight. Two metal skeletons were shambling around an old car nearby, blasters in both of their hands. Fifteen seconds left and he had the courser's head in his sights, the two baseball grenades resting on the ledge just to his right. He'd actually have to chuck these things pretty far if he wanted them to reach their targets, which made sense as to why the spy had given him this type. In his peripheral he spotted movement below him and to the left just as his countdown ended, and he squeezed the trigger without any hesitation.

The courser jerked back roughly as the bullet lodged itself into his face just above the right eyebrow, sparks and blood and an oily substance sprouting from the fresh crater. The sniper didn't even have a moment to be surprised before the courser was setting its sights on the exact rooftop MacCready kneeled on, swiftly pulling out a stealthboy and vanishing. He saw something small rolling quickly toward where the synth had been standing and he didn't think, he just took the shot. The grenade detonated as he once again hit his target perfectly, the two accompanying gen ones getting blown back in the blast and not rising again. Mac pulled his face away from his scope, squinting at the streets below, heart hammering with adrenaline. He didn't see the courser, or Deacon for that matter.

Smoke billowed on the steady wind, the streets a blast zone covered in blackened and twisted metal, garbage, and reaching tongues of fire that lapped at the ancient debris. MacCready felt his heartrate spike as time continued to tick by without any new developments. His head swivelled back and forth, eyes scanning for a sign of life, and it was another ten seconds before he saw it. A deep shadow near a brick pillar that shifted as his eyes locked on it, a familiar shoulder and bald head sliding out into the light, gun rising swiftly, and the quiet popping of Deacon's silenced pistol. The merc immediately locked onto the area his companion was firing at, staring at it intently until he noticed that some of the flames were moving irregularly, hovering above the ground and dancing from left to right. Just as the red blast of returning laserfire flashed across Mac's vision the courser snapped into sharp relief, the spy below somehow managing to shoot off the stealthboy and reveal their target. Once again pure adrenaline and instinct took over as the sniper sighted up his distracted target and put two bullets through it's neck and head in quick succession. This time the synthetic man dropped to his knees, clutching his throat and reaching for the dropped blaster beside him, his damage making him slow now. MacCready stood, cleared the chamber and took aim one last time, his final shot like a crack of lightning in the now silent streets, the courser finally collapsing face first into his own growing puddle of blood and oil. It wasn't at all what killing a robot should look and feel like, but he had no time to ponder the questions of morality these new synths posed.

It took him longer then forty seconds to re-emerge on the streets below, which made him wonder how the railroad agent had done it both faster and while remaining completely silent and hidden. He jogged out into the open, certain that if nothing and no one had come towards the commotion they made by now then they were probably clear for a while. Standing in the middle of the street felt very wrong but he remained still, growing more and more restless as his companion remained missing in action. A cough nearby had him spinning on his heel and practically running to the other side of the road, rounding a partially obliterated vehicle to find Deacon curled onto his side on the pavement, blood staining the left side of nearly his entire body. He coughed again, squeezing himself tighter as if that would make the pain stop.

"Fuck Deacon, oh shit, just hold on man.." The mercenary threw his pack to the ground, dropping beside it and pulling out some bandages and a stimpack.

"He-Hey now, no need for that kind of language kid." The older man joked and then groaned in pain as he was gently but firmly moved onto his back. "Someone sure is- ngh! ah.. s-stronger than they look." 

He gasped, every part of him searing with burns from the blaster fire and heat from the actual flames nearby. Mac ignored him, as was his usual response to the man's babble, and pulled a knife from his boot, gripping the center of Deacon's shirt and slicing it halfway up before ripping it the rest of the way. The young man was quick but very careful not to jostle him anymore. He repeated the process on the man's far more blood soaked sleeve, revealing the two seeping wounds on the left shoulder.

"Oh fuck.. as incredibly hot.. as that truly and sincerely was, agony included even, we.. we can't do this here. Give me the stim, h-help me get to that building. You can.. patch me up in there doc."

MacCready glanced toward where Deacon had gestured, taking in the completely intact police station, and nodded. He bit the cover of the stimpack and yanked the needle free, stabbing carefully into the juncture of Deacon's shoulder, avoiding the blast holes and injecting it deep into his muscle. The spy gripped Mac's forearm so tightly he thought it'd probably bruise later, but he just ran his thumb over the spot of blood that rose as he withdrew the needle, a pointless but astonishingly tender gesture.

"Let me know when you're ready and we'll get you up and moving."

The railroad agent nodded a bit numbly, the stimpack working like adrenaline straight to the heart, but this new side of Mac was novocaine to his affection starved system. He was pretty sure it was just the shock talking, but the boy was looking prettier then ever, with blood on his hands and a blade being shoved back into a hidden ankle holster. Undoubtedly this was a new turn-on of his, being saved by the guy he wanted to bend over and thoroughly mess up. What a weird time for self realizations, and the new implications this had on his character; also something he'd have to face at a later time.  
He nodded, gripping the mercenary's shoulders and letting the very steady and sure young man drag him up and settle him on his feet. He wasn't even fully righted before he was scanning their surroundings for possible danger. Nothing jumped out at them, which was both a blessing and highly unusual. The spy bit back a yelp as taking any weight on his left leg felt like standing with a sword impaling him from heal to hip, he partially collapsed against MacCready's chest. The younger man looped Deacon's hand over his shoulder, his own long wiry arm wrapping around the thick muscle of the man's back and gripping him by the beltloop on his opposite hip.

"I got you." He grunted, and proceeded to half walk half drag the larger man down the cracked sidewalk and into the already open police station, kicking the door shut behind them with probably a tad to much force.

"I see that." Deacon swallowed audibly but quickly directed them up the stairs and over towards a room that was used for medical emergencies; meaning it had a large table in the center, and the surviving wallmounted cabinets were half stocked with medicinal type supplies and a handful of chems.

MacCready partially hoisted Deacon onto the table and the moan the spy released was only partly due to pain.

"You're just showing off now."

"You're the only one goin' around assuming I'm not as strong as the next guy. I may be younger than you or whatever, but I do a ton of manual labor around Sanctuary. You've just been too busy stalking Nate to notice anything else." Mac turned to rifle through the supplies on hand, but the slight tint that rose on his ears showed his own surprise.

Even while laying on a dinner table bleeding from several places Deacon's analyzing squint pierced through his tinted glasses, "Is that so? Well, it's through no fault of my own. Had I been properly informed that you were wandering around some village in the wilderness, probably shirtless and covered in sweat, practicing self reform with a group of dirty settlers, I'd have been there right away."

The young man gripped the counter with both hands, knuckles going white for a second before he picked up a few things and turned around, crossing the room with a careful expression.

"You always flirt with people when you're scared or in pain?"

"Isn't everyone always looking for a distraction?"

Mac didn't answer but his expression sharpened a bit, his eyes running over Deacon from head to thigh. He set his armful of supplies on the table, popping open a can of water and setting it aside while he pulled out a clean cloth and a pair of scissors. The man eased himself up onto his right elbow, ignoring the hand to his chest that was meant to be holding him down. 

"A little something for the pain, doc?" Deacon teased, trying to hide how the movement had taken his breath away again.

"I know you're joking, but I.. Actually, I do have something. There's no Med-x around here, and we didn't pack any either.." Mac finally dropped his bags to the ground, kneeling for a moment to retrieve something and then standing to offer it to his companion, "Here, it's- I found it at the coast guard station. I was gonna sell it to a trader next time we were near a settlement."

MacCready shrugged and went back to his task, lifting the can and very slowly pouring water over Deacon's skin to wash away the blood and get a clear view of the wounds which should already have healed. Deacon looked down at the syringe, teeth clenching as he read the name scribbled on the yellowing label. He was familiar with this particular brand of poison, though he'd never gotten his hands on it again, after his first night in Goodneighbor. He wondered if the sniper even knew how uncommon this particular chem was. He battled with his morals and sobriety for as long as it took Mac to pick up the clean cloth, the spy feeling a tremor in MacCready's fingertips as he wiped away the blood that clung to the two shiny pink burn marks that lingered where holes had been minutes before. That's all it took for him to grit his teeth and place his thumb on the plunger, the needle full of Daddy-O pressed into his good thigh, a yellowish liquid shooting deep into his tissue. The bite of the injection and the burning sensation of the chem entering his bloodstream was revolting, but the effects were instantaneous. His entire body felt a flash of warmth, limbs loosening and brain going a bit foggy for several seconds before sharpening again, suddenly feeling not only clear-headed but hyper focused on everywhere his skin was being touched by both fabric and the pressure of fingertips.

"We uh.. We gotta apply another stimpack. To your leg.. Do you need me to help? It's fine if you do." MacCready gestured to the bloody jeans that were clinging to the agents hips, a very soft color rising to his face beneath his beard, causing a more precise heat to stir in the older man.

"Yeah, why don't you help me RJ." Deacon slid his thumb into his waistband, laying himself back gently and pushing the fabric down enough to reveal a long smooth hipbone, "Not sure I can do it myself in this condition."

The man's eyelids were drooped low, lip caught between his teeth and glasses beginning to slide down his nose a bit. Mac saw thick brown lashes and a flash of grey, diverting his gaze but only managing to look straight to where pale skin and a thick red happy trail disappeared into stained fabric. He couldn't hold off any longer, Deacon had actually verbally requested his help; so he reached out and gripped the man by his jeans, popping the button and sliding the zipper down with visibly shaking fingers. He hated how unsure he felt, but the moment he'd been forced to focus on the water and blood dripping down the spy's naked torso.. Well, he just no longer felt as in control as he had when they were kneeling in the street next to a dead courser and surrounded by small fires on all sides. Somehow he'd lost his footing and Deacon had found his way back on top of everything, MacCready was now trying to play catch up with whatever facet of the man's personality he was facing this time.

The agent placed his hands over Mac's as they gripped him by the beltloops, pulling up and hooking the younger man's long fingers in his waistband, "I'll lift, and you pull. Kay?"

The backs of the mercenary's fingers were cold and rough where they pushed into the smooth heated skin of Deacon's waist, he nodded, looking away as his lips parted and released a long held breath. The spy used his good leg to lift his hips off the table, grunting softly in discomfort but giving his companion enough time to peel the wet jean off his skin and down his thighs. He lowered himself back to the table as MacCready pulled his pants to his ankles, having to take a moment to remove the older man's sneakers before stripping him fully. All the agent was left in was his boxers, also soaked in a deep red up the left thigh, and a pair of dingy tube socks.

They both seemed to need a minute just to breath, Deacon's skin had a thin layer of perspiration over it's entirety, mixing now with the water lingering along his abdomen and the blood still clinging to his thigh. MacCready had managed to calm the nerves making his hands shake but he knew his complexion had turned rosey and his pupils were probably dilated. He was always so wired after a serious shoot out, and now doing this very hands on medical scene or whatever it was devolving into.. He shook off his thoughts and agitations, moving forward again with scissors in hand this time. Deacon lay still and quiet, head tilted to the side, presumably watching Mac's progress. The mercenary gently peeled the leg of the spy's boxers up, sliding the cold metal over the older man's skin as he cut a quick line up to his waistband. The fabric tugged a bit at the unhealed wound, the man moaning softly in pain.

"Sorry." MacCready whispered, though he wasn't sure why.

The young man picked up the water tin, tipping it over and letting water dibble over the stuck fabric, pulling it away with less resistance this time. He went about rinsing Deacon's leg and wiping blood away from the wound, reaching out to grab the last stimpack. He repeated the process from before, biting the cap off the needle and plunging it in near enough to the wound that the healing began taking place right in front of his eyes. He watched the scorched flesh pinken and begin to pull itself together, a hole becoming a knot of red tissue, smoothing out into a shiny burn mark. It took Mac several moments to notice the hand on his hip, thumb rubbing small half circles over the waistband of his pants.

"It's ah.. a good thing those coursers aren't great shots, huh? Nothing vital got nicked, and you should be back to normal soon. Well, whatever normal is for you."

Deacon smirked, continuing to pet MacCready's hip, "They are great shots, he hit his mark every time."

The merc swallowed, clenching his hands into fists and standing very still, "Then why?"

"One in the thigh to drop me, chance to disarm. Two in the shoulder to fully disarm and disable. No unnecessary suffering, the next shot would have been to the head."

Mac drew his eyes to the spy's face, taking in the relaxed but serious expression he could finally read. For the first time the man seemed open, and it was both welcome and terrifying. The hand at his hip slid up higher, fingers slipping under his two layers of shirts and pressing into the smoothness he found beneath.

"I'd be dead if you weren't such an excellent shot RJ. I believe that makes me obliged to you, and I certainly am.."

"I uh. That's.. actually.. the second time. That I saved your life.. Today."

Deacon actually laughed, pulling his hand away and using his elbows to edge himself back up, letting a grin slip onto his face. MacCready remembered in that second exactly how close to naked the man was, and then remembered that he was also the one to make him that way. He couldn't fight the blush so he did what anyone else would do, turned away and coughed as an excuse to cover his reddening face.

"You're not wrong." The agent joked, finally in a fully upright position he bent his legs at the knees and let them fall open just enough to reveal neatly trimmed red hair extending from his navel down to the crease of his thigh, "I should offer you a token of my esteem. Perhaps a kiss for my hero."

"Deacon.." He didn't know what to say or what to do, wasn't sure if he was calling the man's name as a warning or in a desperate plea.

"Don't worry," The man tipped his head back, smirk back in place, "It's just a joke. You look like you're thinking I'm about to eat you up."

"That's sorta the vibes you're putting off there Deac." He had to clear his throat before speaking, adam's apple bobbing gently and drawing the spy's attention.

"Is that so?" He murmured as he slowly shifted his legs off the table, hunching over himself a bit and gripping the wooden ledge, his core tightening as cold water droplets slid over exposed skin and raised goosebumps in their wake.

"Don't worry MacCready, I have enough self control to last the night."

Mac turned and fled, no other way to describe it. He tossed over his shoulder that he'd find some clothes and build a fire, but couldn't bring himself to make eye contact. He'd felt the waves of tension, could sense the untruth barely hidden in his companions final words, and his insides lit up. The shame would come later, he was sure, but for now he was simply feeling.. Gods, shy? It was a unfamiliar and gross sensation, whatever it was, and he wanted to run from it as thoroughly as he'd run from the gorgeous man sitting naked and dripping in the other room.

It took him a few minutes to locate a stash of outfits, trying not to focus too heavily on what he selected but knowing that he was being both frivolous and OBVIOUS. Holy hell, but it'd probably be worth it. He knelt back outside the door of the medical room and folded the worn black leather jacket in half, setting it underneath the dark jeans and grey moth bitten t-shirt he'd picked out. Standing slowly he stepped to the right, head peaking around the doorframe, unsure of what he was going to see but also feeling the need to see first announce his presence later. However there was nothing to see, his eyes swivelled back and forth and he stepped into the doorway. He was certain that the room was empty but also couldn't put it past the spy to have actually managed to camouflage himself like a chameleon.

"Looking for something?"

The sniper let out an only slightly undignified shout at the voice coming from just behind him, swinging around with a hand to his chest and his eyes wide. The older man was leaning against the hallway wall right behind him, arms crossed and still in only his socks and ripped boxers. His eyebrows quirked, head nodding to the spot beside MacCready where he'd set the clothes.

"Those for me? Thanks kid."

He shrugged off the wall and stepped up close to the younger man, dropping carefully into a crouch and collecting the items, standing slowly and shifting close as he moved around the other man and entered the room. Mac shook his head, scratching his cheek nervously and wandering back down the hallway into the main room, getting to work on gathering things for a fire. Despite it being an old police station the place was set up a lot like an apartment now, one with cells in it granted but it had a decent bathroom, the medical room doubled as a dining room, there was an old cookfire near the stairs that lead down to the street, and a few desks and chairs with sleepingbags stuffed between them. He'd noticed a few mattresses along the back of the hallway too, curious about how many agents and synths this place held at once. The answer right now was none apparently, other than the railroad agent he'd arrived with of course. But he also hadn't had a chance to check for corpses that weren't of his own making out on the street, their was a decent chance his companion had lost a friend or colleague today. He hadn't even thought about it, though his companion hadn't mentioned it either.

The mercenary was sat next to the stairs, building a new fire in the old cooking pit, when Deacon finally emerged, dressed in everything the younger man had picked out and looking decidedly heartbreaking. His stride had a certain swagger to it as he approached and MacCready couldn't help but think that he must be feeling better if he could put that much cock in his walk. They didn't speak as the man pulled up a chair from nearby and sat, watching as broken bits of wood were piled around a crumpled ball of newspaper. Mac was just reaching for his pack when the spy flicked something towards him, he caught it instinctively, looking at the pristine unused lighter in his hand.

"This is nice." He mumbled, quickly setting the paper on fire and tossing on some photos he'd found in a crumbling box nearby, the flames turning green and blue as they chewed through the old chemicals, "Thanks."

Deacon waved him off when he tried to give it back, pulling his pack into his lap and rooting around for something. Probably a distraction, knowing him.

"Keep it. I stole it from those whackjobs at the Cabbot house, but I honestly already have like twenty."

MacCready laughed, looking at the polished lighter before pulling his pack of cigarettes out and tapping one free, pressing it between his lips and taking a long drag as he lit up. He slipped the lighter into the breast pocket of his duster, taking another inhale and then offering it to Deacon with a lopsided smile. The spy would never admit to his heart skipping a beat at seeing that expression purposefully aimed at him, but there it was, traitorous blood pump skipping away beneath his ribs. He leaned forward, sliding his fingers around the thin white stick, resting his elbows on his knees and pulling deeply. They passed it back and forth until the butt was flicked into the now steadily crackling fire, another quickly being lit and following the same pattern as the first.

They eventually found themselves talking and laughing softly, the sniper heating up some of the meat they'd brought with them, passing slices to the other man as they chatted and chewed. Mac ended up talking a bit about his childhood in Little Lamplight, and Deacon may or may not have given legitimate details of occurrences in his own youth. There was a warmth to their interactions now, the camaraderie that had always been lacking was suddenly coming to them easily and naturally. But that heat the merc had run from earlier was still simmering just beneath the surface too. Every time their hands brushed when passing the cigarette, when their thighs pressed together as MacCready pulled up a chair maybe a little too close, their was that lie still simmering between them. Deacon's words implying that he had all the time in the world, but his body for once speaking louder; the tension in his arms and shoulders, the dip of his head and the spread of his thighs. He'd said the words, but he hadn't meant them, not for a second. And they both knew it.

It wasn't until after they'd finished eating that the older man pulled out an old bottle of whiskey. He opened it up and tipped it back without any fan fair but swallowed less then he made it appear, knowing those inquisitive blue eyes were on him. The bottle was offered up with a smile that poorly mimicked the ex Gunner's grin from earlier, but he smiled back anyway, reaching out and drinking without any hesitation. He definitely drank as much as it appeared, the young man clearly more used to beer than liquor, but holding it like a champ nonetheless. Deacon took another quick swig, just enough to spike his high, and set the bottle between them. Mac had begun speaking again, they were back on comics but without needing to argue in order to justify carrying on conversation.

"Speaking of The Unstoppables!" MacCready was grinning again, and he really needed to stop being so adorable, "I thick.. I THINK, that I saw a magazine, in one of the cells. But it was closed. The cell. The door was locked. I over-explain when I drink. Don't let me drink anymore."

Deacon laughed, capping the bottle and tossing it into his bag before standing and stretching, enjoying how the merc openly stared now that he was relaxed and his inhibitions were lowered. The man let his arms fall, cocking his head and licking his dry lips while offering his hand.

"Come on lightweight, show me where you found this magazine."

MacCready grumbled about how a lightweight wouldn't have been able to manhandle Deacon up the stairs earlier; which Deacon responded to by pulling the man up with more force then necessary, catching him against his chest and running his hands firmly down his back before gripping his hips and setting him upright. The merc had already ditched his duster and scarf while cooking, the thin long sleeved shirt and thinner t-shirt remaining were not enough to hide the lovely color that tipped his ears and crept softly down his neck. The spy wanted to lean in and catch that ear between his teeth, tugging and nibbling at the heated flesh, but instead he stepped aside and allowed the mercenary to lead him to the wall of cells in the back of the room.

He indicated to the one closest to the hallway, standing beside the door and squinting into the back corner where a skeleton was half collapsed into a metal bucket on the floor. Sure enough, beside the pile of bones was a few chems sitting on top of a comic of some sorts. Deacon squatted down and pulled out the same bobbypins he'd used earlier, shoving them into the lock and getting to work.

"Are you really gonna be able to open that right now? You were just drinking, and earlier you had that.. I think it was.. Oh Daddy?"

The pin snapped off in the lock and Deacon coughed to clear his throat, pulling out another one without comment and continuing on his mission. He had it unlocked before MacCready remembered what he had been talking about, the young man's eyes going wide and lighting up as the door swung open. His nose crinkled up though as he saw the smug look on the spy's face when he looked back down.

"Nice job," He rolled his eyes and rubbed his beard to hide the smile tugging at his lips, "But can you do it blindfolded?"

"I could, actually. But I have a better idea. You mentioned wanting to learn earlier today, right?"

MacCready nodded but looked confused as Deacon shut the cell door again, the lock clicking closed and sealing the magazine inside. The spy gestured for the brunette to step forward, moving behind him and placing his hands on the man's shoulders, pressing down and encouraging him to drop to his knees facing the door. He ran his fingers up the back of the younger man's neck, squeezing gently before pulling away and retrieving a few bobbypins from his tin. He passed them over the merc's shoulder, giving into the temptation to stroke a soft red ear as he pulled his hand back. Crouching down onto his heels and spreading his thighs he completely surrounded the smaller male, able to look over his shoulder to watch what he was doing without even touching him. He could smell sweat and fire, cigarettes and gunpowder, it made his throat constrict.

"You're looking for two slides in the lock, places the pin can slip into and hold open. Find the first," His hand lifted Mac's, encouraging the man to press the bobbypin into the lock, "Slide it in. And when you find that spot, that's it, right near the back.. You're gonna want to press up into it."

His lips drifted over the back of MacCready's neck, one hand tracing the mercenary's spine while the other lingered over his hand, feeling his fingers work. He could sense when the younger man shuddered, and when the pin finally slid into place. 

"Good boy." He spoke against the warm skin behind Mac's ear, "Now repeat with the second pin and use them to turn the lock."

Despite the returning tremors in his fingertips the man managed to locate the second slide quickly enough, pressing it in and using both his hands to grip the pins and slowly twist the lock open. With a clang and a shiver the metal door eased open, MacCready forgetting the suggestive touches long enough to be beside himself with excitement over his new skill. Twisting at the waist he grinned over his shoulder at the man behind him. Mac lost his breath as he was reminded how close they were, his nose nearly touching Deacon's as the spy grinned back at him, hands moving down his shoulders and to his wrists.

"Well done Bobby, time for the intermediate lesson."

Cold metal clasped around slender bones and tanned skin before MacCready had time to respond, the man jerking back into Deacon's chest as he jumped in surprise, looking down at the handcuffs locked around his wrists. He felt an arm around his waist, another pin being slipped into his right hand before fingertips began stroking over his chest and thighs.

"I picked up a little something at the coast guard station too." A hand shot up to cover the mercenary's mouth when he went to speak, tongue clucking disapprovingly, "Shh, shh. Since you're such a natural I'm providing you with a challenge, a little trial by fire if you will. I'm just going to distract you a bit while you break free, sounds fun right?"

Mac moaned beneath the spy's fingers as the man pinched through his shirts, tugging at a swiftly hardening nipple and pressing his full hand against the younger man's abdomen; pinning him fully to the hard chest he was already leaning against. The older man dropped down onto his knees, shifting the sniper forward a bit as he pressed against him, brushing his hand over Mac's zipper just to hear his breath catch. Deacon slid his face over the reddening skin of the man's neck, teeth sinking in and tongue sweeping over salty skin until a deep red bruise formed. His hips rocked forward as he looked down at the mark, the bulge in his jeans pressing against the brunette's lower back.

"Fuck.." MacCready choked on a moan or a whine, fingers gripping the bobbypin tightly but hesitating until the moment he felt a stronger pressure over the front of his pants, then shakily he set to work attempting to break out of the cuffs.

"That's right RJ, now you're making progress." The spy licked the shell of Mac's ear, catching the lobe between his teeth and giving it a gentle suck, "Once you've finished your training that comic is all yours. Sound fair?"

"Ngh! Ah, Deacon!" The mercenary's entire body shook with a shudder as the older man swiftly undid his belt and shoved his hand under both layers of clothing to wrap his fist around MacCready's hard cock.

"Whoa.. Nice." Deacon kissed down his neck, rolling his hips forward as he began giving the younger man firm but languid strokes, "You got a fat cock huh, little boy?"

MacCready let out a moan that from him definitely qualified as filthy, his hips shifting for the first time, forward into the man's clenched fist before rolling back and inadvertently grinding his muscular ass into the agent's groin. The man's hand flexed, making his partner whimper beneath him, and he pressed forward until the merc had to shift onto his knees and bend over, stretching cuffed wrists out in front of him. Deacon pulled his hands back after giving the boy a few strong tugs, running them over a slim back and sharp hips before grabbing two handfuls of ass, groping and then rubbing with firm pressure.

"I've been watching this thing all day, you know that?" The spy smiled, taking MacCready's panting breaths as answer enough, "Someone needs to work on nourishing you properly, but man.. whether it was god, genetics, or body training, you have an ass to kill for."

"Wha-.. What does that even mean?" The younger man finally managed to speak, face pressed into the floor with his thighs spread and back arched, still twisting the pin in the lock on his wrists.

Deacon slid the two shirts up Mac's back till they were bunched around his shoulderblades, the other hand dragging rough fabric down and over the soft mounds he'd been fixated on, "It means, I'm going to be spending a lot of time back here."

MacCready's whole body seemed to tense up for a few seconds and he gasped, hips grinding forward while his forehead pressed more firmly against the dirty station floor, "Pervert."

"Baby, you have no idea. But you will find out soon, don't even have to be patient for it."

" 'thought you said.. you said your control could last the night.."

"Oh yeah, I lied. Then again, you knew that didn't you, Bobby?"

The brunette shook his head in denial, gasping as warm hands caressed areas of his body that hadn't been touched in a very long time, knowing that now he was the one bald-faced lying. Maybe that's the effect Deacon had on people, turned everyone around him into con-men and extremists. It didn't matter now though, with the man's fingers prying his cheeks apart and the pad of a thumb being the first thing to brush that private center of him. His legs had begun shaking now, thighs trembling and knees growing sore against the smooth concrete. Had he known being touched, especially by a man, after over a year of celibacy would reduce him to a new born radstag, he'd have made sure to mess around with someone every few months at least.

The spy didn't linger too long though, his hands sliding slowly down the backs of the younger man's thighs, squeezing them tightly as he moved in closer to kiss the knot of bone at the base of his partner's spine. Thumbs rubbed back and forth under where legs met the swell of a backside, fingertips flexing firmly enough to cause bruises. Lips trailed lower, teeth and tongue dancing over the firm round cheeks, leaving a path of love marks to decorate tan skin. It took a few seconds for Deacon to understand the low but distinct click he heard just as he let his hands move higher again, his breath ghosting over the dusky pink hole. 

Long fingers slid over Deacon's scalp, nails scraping lightly before he was gently pushed away, his glasses sliding off his nose and hitting the ground. Neither of them paid attention though, as Mac lowered himself onto his side and the railroad agent immediately jumped on the opportunity to yank the man's underwear and cargo pants from of his legs, managing to tug his boots free and unstrap his ankle sheath as well. Once that was done he edged forward until he was overtop the ex Gunner, somehow managing to hold himself parallel to ground while pulling MacCready's shirts over his head and off his arms, leaving him fully naked at last.

"I want you to know.. I'm genuinely impressed with how quickly you're mastering my lessons. I must truly be an outstanding teacher."

"I'm just an outstanding student." MacCready quipped back, surging forward to shove the leather jacket off wide shoulders and grab the bottom of Deacon's shirt to yank it upward, the older man lifting his arms and allowing himself to be stripped.

"It's really hot when you're assertive," The spy smirked, straddling the sniper's hips then and easing back to slowly grind his clothed ass over the ridged red cock, "But it's even hotter when you're helpless. I think it's time to crank the difficulty level up to Survival, shall we?"

This time he pinned Mac's arms above him, securing yet another pair of handcuffs around the man's wrists, and following it up with a ratty scarf wrapped and tied around surprised blue eyes. Deacon covered MacCready's mouth and shifted down his body, sucking dark bruises from neck to navel, loving the muffled gasps and whines. He pulled his hand away for a moment to watch the younger man pant, sliding his fingers into the wet heat and petting the mercenary's tongue with his middle and pointer fingers. The merc let his lips fall shut, swallowing before he began giving tentative licks and a few more cofident sucks to the digits between his teeth.

Deacon's fingers came free with a thin trail of saliva connecting the men for a second before firm wet pressure began circling Mac's hole, the older man taking hold of a thigh and pushing it forward until he had the view he desired. The mercenary brought his arms down, reaching between his legs and finding the spy's head, trying to push the man back and give himself some time to formulate coherent thought. Deacon was having none of it, grabbing one cuffed wrist and dragging MacCready's hands down his face, kissing his left palm and licking up long lean fingers until he could suck them into his mouth. Just as lips closed around the younger man's middle finger a slick digit delved beyond the unprepared entrance, sinking to the second knuckle without pause. The sniper shouted, chest stilling for several seconds before gasping, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut behind the blindfold. The man kept his grip tight as he continued working the finger in his mouth and the one in his partners clenching heat.

"To much.. It's too much, Deacon.. Guh- Just.. give me a minute, you jerk."

The older man chuckled, grey eyes flashing dangerously as he looked up at his partner, allowing the finger to fall from his lips, kissing MacCready's knuckle softly. He watched closely as he sunk his finger in the rest of the way, beginning to pant at the whimpers he pulled from the brunette. They stilled for a moment, both overwhelmed with desire and confusion in almost equal parts; both having internal meltdowns over the feeling of Mac's walls clenching so tightly around Deacons finger.

"You're.. You're kind of an asshole." The younger man swallowed thickly, bringing his arms back up and throwing one awkwardly over his face.

"And here I was, planning on doing something super nice for you."

"For me? Right."

"Well.. To you. Don't worry baby, I swear you'll love it. So no more name calling.. Unless you're into that. Did you wanna be Daddy's little slut, RJ?"

"Fuck off, old man."

"Hmmn, circle back to that at a later date then?"

The spy had successfully distracted MacCready long enough that when a tongue swiped over his stretched entrance the man let out a surprised and unfiltered moan of pleasure. After that the railroad agent soon had to slip his finger free and grip both thighs as the younger man shuddered and thrashed, unable to hide his vocal reactions anymore then he could hide the way his dick wept pre-cum over his quivering stomach. Deacon went at it like eating ass was not only his career but his lifelong passion, somehow pinning down the mercenary's powerful lower half and shoving his tongue inside him, drool running from his lips to his chin and down his partner's back. 

It wasn't long before MacCready was biting his own hand to stifle his noises, hips gyrating against the older man's face, thighs shaking uncontrollably and cock jumping excitedly. Deacon reached up, wrapping his hand around the angry red shaft, squeezing until cum dribbled from the head and slid down over his fingers. The younger man arched off the ground, chest expanding and contracting almost violently. A few sucking kisses to the wet ring of muscle had a dry sob choking it's way out of the sniper's throat, followed by a keening whine when the spy leaned back and released one of his thighs only to replace his tongue with two fingers. He immediately began pumping them in and out, rubbing at the wet flexing walls of MacCready's ass, gaze locked intently on the clenching pink hole.

"You're amazing Bobby, I wish you could see how beautifully you react to me. The way your body responds to the touches of a man, so hungry and needy and perfect."

MacCready cried out, his hands fisting in his hair and legs snapping closed around Deacon's arm while he road his hand, cock jerking and spurting in the older man's grasp. The spy growled, pushing forward again and looming over the brunette, fingers hooking and dragging over his prostate. The younger man actually screamed, trying to hide his face behind his arms despite the cuffs, his body trembling all over from the stimulation. With the railroad agent's fingers still working inside him and the tight clench around the base of his shaft never faltering Mac found himself hardening up again, not even having a chance to recover from his first orgasm before feeling the second one mounting.

"Fuck, oh.. fuck.. oh fuck, oh fuck fuck Fuck! Deac-..Deacon!" 

Fingers pulled free suddenly and the younger man whined again, loud and every bit as needy as the spy had just accused him of being. There was a chuckle and then Mac was being manhandled into a sitting position, and from there being tugged onto his knees, at which point he caught on to where this was going. He felt fingers stroke through his hair soothingly a few times before gripping tightly and pulling until his face was pointing toward the ceiling. A thumb brushed over his cheekbone, touches along his jaw and neck, then his chin was cupped and a finger parted his lips.

"Sorry kid, I've reached my limit.."

There was the sound of a zipper sliding through it's track, the rustle of fabric, and the scent of musk and copper. The head of the spy's cock was salty and wet as it was rubbed over Mac's parted lips and down his chin, then back up where it dipped into his mouth to touch his tongue and pull back. 

"Open wide and stick your tongue out."

MacCready bit his lip roughly, squirming where he knelt and panting prettily, clearly too overwhelmed to comprehend commands. Deacon squatted enough to snatch up the younger man's wrist retraints, holding the chain and lifting his hands over his head, pinning him in place against the bars of the jail cell. He grabbed the merc's chin again, lifting his head into place before sliding fingers past parted lips and gripping his partner's tongue, pulling it out like he wanted.

"Now be a good boy Bobby and stay still."

His hand slipped behind Mac's head as he pressed his hips forward, feeding his cock into the man's waiting mouth, head and shaft dragging along his tongue. The sniper was panting hotly as inch after rock hard inch was edged past his teeth, reaching his throat sooner than he expected and still not stopping. He gagged as his nose met the neat red bush at the spy's base, body trying to rise up and slide free, but he was firmly held in place as Deacon was still moving forward. MacCready's face was fully pressed against the railroad agent's firm lower belly when the older man finally released an impossibly turned on groan, making himself sit still while his partner's throat fluttered and he fought against his reflexes.

"Just take it. You don't have to do anything but sit there and take it baby, exactly like this."

His grip around MacCready's cuffed wrists tightened, his fingertips digging in at the back of the young man's neck where he held his head firmly, hips now pumping as he fucked into the sucking wet heat. His grey eyes shifted down to take in the debauched scene he'd made of his companion, pace faltering as he noticed dampness forming on the cloth he'd tied over the man's eyes. He swallowed thickly before releasing Mac's head and instead grabbing his chin again, sliding his thumb into the sinful mouth he was fucking before brushing it over a damp cheek. He moaned and closed his eyes, pulling back till just the tip of his cock was still sheathed.

"Baby, you cryin' for me?" He gasped, prying his eyes back open and tearing the blindfold away.

Watery blue eyes and tear soaked cheeks glistened back at him, making him jerk forward again with a moan and a shudder. This time he couldn't look away, cupping Mac's face to keep him completely visible while Deacon memorized absolutely everything about this moment. His cock was now leaking steadily, he would have certainly cum by now if it hadn't been for the mix of substances earlier, which he was honestly thankful for. He knew it was impossible at the rate he was going, but he really did wish he could spend the entire night inside MacCready's lithe body, making him cry and beg for more and then no more and then more again. Over and over until the sun could illuminate his loved, bruised body with glittering gold daylight.

"Ah fuck! Bobby.. You look so beautifull like this. Restrained, on your knees, desperate and falling apart." His fingers moved from gripping the merc's wrists to threading themselves through his fingers, "I've-.. I've imagined having you like this. Even before this disastrous side trek. I knew I'd never.. and yet, here you are. And you look so sexy I could positively weep, baby."

He couldn't tell if it was a moan or a choked sob, but he felt MacCready's throat constrict tightly around him as his hips met the young man's face. Another gag from below, a shiver running up his spine, and that was it. Deacon released Mac's chin and instead gripped his hair in a tight fist, holding the sniper down as he grinded through pulse after pulse of his release. He could feel his cum filling the space around his cock and it made his eyes roll back. The man on his knees choking around the thick load, hands beginning to yank at there bonds desperately.

"Good.. good boy." Deacon cooed breathlessly, leaning his head against the bars and gently rocking his still hard cock through the mercenary's mouth, ignoring the garbled, weakening protests.

He stayed inside the intoxicating wetness of MacCready's mouth until the man calmed and swallowed around him, his tongue cupping and cleaning the cock he'd just sucked dry. The spy groaned, caressing the soft brown hair between his fingers before finally pulling free and releasing Mac's hands and the handcuffs entirely. As he stepped back MacCready shakily fell forward, taking deep shuddering breaths and lowering himself to his elbows and knees. Deacon crouched by his head, reaching down to lift the man's face. Fresh tears were obvious in the corners of his eyes, even closed like they were, and he looked younger then ever; lips a swollen red and glistening with spit and cum, cheeks flushed pink. The older man stroked his face with a tenderness that seemed completely out of place, considering.. everything; he produced a key out of thin air presumably, unlocking the cuffs with one hand and tossing them aside.

"You really are so, so gorgeous.. and young, god.. It scares me a little, how much I want you. All the time. Everywhere." He murmured, slipping a fingertip past the mercenary's lips for a moment.

Mac shivered, swallowing with a wince, no doubt already feeling the soreness in his throat. He remained silent, eyes closed and body shaking all over. The hand on his face stroked down to his neck and shoulders next, fingers tracing the muscles in his arms before slipping under, rolling a nipple between his thumb and middle finger. MacCready inhaled sharply, a deep tremor starting in his biceps and thighs. A few geltle tugs and teasing flicks had his heart hammering and his breaths coming in gasps.

"Fuck your body is just so sensitive. That's incredibly sexy Bobby.." Deacon growled the last statement as he moved forward, shoving the younger man back roughly till he fell onto his butt, eyes finally opening in surprise.

The railroad agent was soon yanking him into his lap by his thighs, eyes greedily mapping his body as he maneuvered the other man easily into the position he wanted. Mac grunted in discomfort and tried to close his legs but they were pried apart, revealing his red leaking cock.

"Deacon! That- It's enough.. It's fine. You can stop now." He was starting to struggle again when a hand wrapped tightly around his base and the other pinned his hips down.

"I really can't, man. I don't know what it is, but I just gotta take you completely apart. I need to leave my mark on every part of you, or else I'm pretty sure I'll die. You wouldn't wish that on someone would you?" Deacon smiled as he pulled the foreskin down Mac's shaft, sliding his thumb over the shiny round head and making the man under him jerk as he bit his lip roughly, "There's a good boy. You're a real team player Bobby."

"Please.." The younger man whined, thighs quivering as he covered his face again, chest heaving.

"Yes, finally." Deacon breathed, "I want to hear that raspy voice of yours doing more than snarking at me. Beg me baby. Beg for more, or less, I don't care. I just wanna hear it, all of it.."

He pressed one of Mac's thighs forward till it nearly touched his chest, bending over him to seal his lips against the sensitive flesh just a few inches below the inside bend of his knee. His teeth nipped there once, twice, MacCready moaned as the hand on his cock began pumping him, and then the spy sealed his mouth to that spot and sucked. A whine left the brunette's throat in a rush, his hips swivled like he wasn't sure if he wanted to twist away or buck forward. The older man kissed his way to the juncture of his thigh and went to work biting and sucking marks there too, groaning as he licked at the salty flesh pinched between his teeth.

"Fu- Oh Fu- Nnngh!" A dry sob broke free from the sniper's chest and it had Deacon's cock twitching in interest again, even though he was pretty sure he couldn't get hard yet.

"Please!" MacCready gasped again, but didn't stop there this time, "Ah! Oh please, Deacon.. I-It hurts. Please, I need.. I need it!"

Lips and teeth crashed together as the spy took the mercenary's mouth roughly, tongue plunging in and claiming the space like it belonged there. The younger man moaned desperately into the kiss, hips shifting up, pressing himself against the hard body above him. Deacon ground his still soft cock against Mac's ass, pumping the velvety shaft in his hand, once again completely overcome by lust and everything that was MacCready wanting him, needing him. It was an addictive sensation, to hold power over such an independent and alluring creature. The sniper truly had no idea how many people were eyeing him, no doubt fantasizing about pressing themselves into his sexy little body in a moment much like this one. They had no idea that the real thing was even better than the imagined, more intense and scary and perfect than the fantasy could ever be. That was something for only Deacon to know, for now at least.

The make-out session seemed to be the young man's tipping point, it was barely sixty seconds before his entire body was pulling as tight as a bowstring and then releasing his ecstasy with a low pitched moan and full body shudder. All the tension seemed to leave his limbs as the wave of pleasure crested and receded slowly, leaving him panting, limp and sweaty where he lay. Deacon was already half hard again by the end, but knew better than to try and get inside the other right away. Instead he stretched the smaller man out and literally licked him clean, which didn't at all help with his own interests but god was the tiny breathy sounds he was rewarded with worth it. After he was done he rolled over and pushed himself up, controlling his expression to avoid giving away how sore he'd made himself in that whole process. It took him a few minutes to locate a cleanish cloth and a tin of water, taking a swig before wetting the rag and cleaning himself off. He came back to where Mac was curled up on the floor, smirking to himself before kneeling down and scooping the sniper up into his arms.

MacCready squawked and flailed a bit, his eyes snapping open and hands instinctively moving around Deacon's shoulders in a tight embrace. The spy chuckled and stood, secretly grateful for all the muscle he'd put on while in the railroad, as this would have been difficult in his younger days; Mac was built very well, especially for his size, with all that wiry muscle and thick thigh action, though the merc would certainly not take any of that as a compliment particularly. The older man was, however, slightly obsessed with their size difference; taking special pleasure in moving in close and making the brunette have to tip his head back to look up at him. It made him want to wrap an arm around that slim waist, put a deep arch in his spine, and press hungry kisses down onto his tempting lips.

There were multiple beds lining the back hallway but Deacon carried Mac to the one furthest from the main room; laying him down gently and trying not to think about some random agent or synth sleeping here in the future and smelling sex and gunpowder. He swiftly went to work cleaning the younger man's body properly, paying an unneeded amount of attention to his cock and anus, petting and rubbing them until the man whined and tried to squirm away. The spy actually had to slap himself to stop from crawling over the nearly unconscious mercenary and plunging himself inside. His head was still spinning with all his desires when he finally managed to slip a modest layer of clothing back over both of them, wrapping himself around the other man from behind and burying his face in his neck.

Even having a slightly hard dick his mind was able to slip into sleep fairly quickly with the comforting warmth against his chest. He wouldn't admit it in the light of a new day, but here, now, he felt more content than he had in probably a decade or more. As the light and hushed creaks of the safehouse faded out, the spy found himself dreaming of a beautiful young man offering himself to a demon, clear blue eyes going hazy with confusion and lust as his body and soul were slowly consumed in greedy black flames.

**Author's Note:**

> Note #1  
> I have no clue whatsoever how to pick a lock. I've read stories that contained the topic, and played games (as you've guessed, I'm sure) that contained lock picking. I didn't make it look exactly the same as in game because.. well.. this is just how I imagined Deacon doing it.. *shrugs*  
> Note #2  
> So about the "Dubious consent" tag. I went ahead and put that in there for two simple reasons; Deacon is on chems and therefore cannot technically consent, MacCready is drunk and therefore cannot technically consent. They're enthusiastic, they're both super into it, but they are also compromised as they're under the influence of substances. Consent is very important to me, no matter my kinks, so I want to be clear.. I do not condone drunk/high sex with partners you have not discussed the possibility with beforehand. Keep dub-con fictional, kay? Thanks.


End file.
